17 February 2007 | 855 words
Title: Heartache and Hope
Pairing: Aragorn / Faramir
Table/Prompt: 20_est_relships – 8. Loss
Word Count: 794
Summary: Aragorn tries to help Faramir deal with his grief.
Warnings: Tissues will be needed
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to Tolkien, I however like to borrow them for my own pleasure.
Heartache and Hope
When Aragorn woke there was an empty space in the bed beside him. His eyes glanced at the seat by the window where he knew he would find his lover. It was something which had become increasingly common these last few weeks, and each morning Faramir looked just a little more lost than before.
“You had that dream again did you not?” he asked softly, unsurprised when Faramir simply nodded in response. The dreams had become much more frequent as Boromir’s birthday approached. “I wish you would wake me, it pains me to see you suffer alone.”
“It does not feel like a dream,” Faramir said after a while. “I would say that it was a memory if not for the fact that I know it never happened.”
“Night after night I see him lying there in that boat, so close that I can almost reach out and touch him. Sometimes I wade out into the water, wanting to bring him ashore, but he always vanishes before I can reach him.”
Aragorn’s heart broke a little more at Faramir’s words’ He had always regretted Boromir’s death, always blamed himself for not getting there that little bit quicker, or for not being a good enough healer to save his life, and now he found himself wishing even more that things could have been different. He would do anything in the world just to see Faramir smile again, but the one single thing that could do that was simply not possible.
He got out of bed and wandered over to where his lover sat, wrapping his arms tightly around him.
“I am so sorry Faramir,” he whispered, wiping the tears from his lover’s cheek. “I am sorry that I failed your brother. I would do anything to bring him back to you if I could.”
“You did not fail him; there was nothing you could have done.”
“I dream of him too,” Aragorn continued. It was something he had never before mentioned to Faramir, but now he felt it was time that he should. Maybe then Faramir would open up to him a little more instead of bottling it all up inside.
“My mind replays that day over and over again. Every time I can do nothing as he fades away in my arms, and I know that if just one thing had been different…” he trailed off; nothing more needed to be said.
This time it was Faramir who wrapped his arms around him.
“I do not blame you my love, and you should not blame yourself. It was his time to leave this earth, and I must learn to accept that. I just wish…” Faramir continued, before breaking off his words; it was pointless to wish what could never be.
“Go on,” Aragorn prompted. He did not wish to push, but he felt as though anything Faramir told him may be used to help him heal.
“Let’s go back to bed,” suggested Faramir, guiding the older man back to the bed he had deserted a long time before. He suddenly wanted to feel close to Aragorn, to lie curled up in his arms like he always did.
As soon as he was settled with his head resting on Aragorn’s chest he continued his earlier thoughts.
“I wish that… I wish that we had found Boromir’s body, so that he may have been buried the way he ought to have been. I wish that I could lay flowers on his grave.”
Aragorn’s grip tightened automatically around the precious bundle he held in his arms. “I am sorry,” he whispered again as Faramir sobbed against him, finally overcome by his grief.
Exactly a week later, on Boromir’s birthday, they stood in Faramir’s private garden. It had belonged first to his mother, and then to himself and his brother, and for a time, many people visited it, but he was the only one who ever came there any more.
It had been Aragorn’s suggestion that they plant a tree in Boromir’s memory, but now he stood back, allowing Faramir to have this moment in private, but staying close enough if he was needed.
Faramir could not help but cry as he pressed the earth around the sapling he had set in the ground; it was an Elvish tree, one given to Aragorn as a present from Lórien. A golden tree for the golden warrior for Gondor, he had said.
It was perfect, finally a private place for him to remember Boromir, a place for him to leave those flowers. It was a place for him to grieve.
He smiled softly as he walked over to his lover who stood there waiting for him so patiently. Maybe, it was a place for both of them to grieve.
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The following people read the story, enjoyed it, and would like to thank the author: Mel